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This time, I barely heard the shoes approaching; just somelight scuffling on the floor. Again, the footsteps paused as the new arrivaltook in the sight of me, the jar, the sign. Heapproached and began fingering my cunt, now sloppy with cum. Without a sound,he began scooping up the thick cum and spreading it over my asshole. Iwhimpered. My Master had only started using me anally a week before, and Istill found it painful, if incredibly arousing. It still felt too intimate toshare with a stranger. But I said nothing, remembering the look of pride in Hiseyes when He looked at me. Not for anything would I jeopardize that look. I heard him unzip, and then felt his cock pressed against mytiny pucker. It seemed thinner than the others, but perhaps that was justwishful thinking, because, as he pushed the flanged cockhead past my tight ringI felt an intense burning pain. I squirmed, whimpering, despite myself, but hekept pushing, deep into my hottest, tightest hole, until his entire length. Normally Albert hated this time of year, he hated the hypocrisy as people who’d ignore him eleven months of the year, who’d kick him as he slept in the street and then give him blankets, or jackets, or a bit of spare change. He never turned down the charity, he just swallowed what little pride he had and hid his aversion. Beyond this hypocrisy, Albert, who lived eleven months of the year relatively satisfied with his solitude, found himself haunted, haunted by his own personal ghost of Christmases past. Not sure if it was the lights in the streets, the Holiday music that seemed to slip though every door or the impending chance of snow, but the normally clear headed Albert found himself remembering his wife, his children, his life before. It was in the midst of his memories that Albert slipped onto the nearby cemetery and took several fresh flowers left just that morning. Holding them loosely in his jacket to protect them from the cold, he wandered back toward his alley dodging the.
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